


Too Much Space Between You and Me

by pristinecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pristinecas/pseuds/pristinecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean seemed distant. It was nothing new. Cas had gotten used to only seeing him in the mornings, as his boyfriend worked late hours, straight through midnight and into the early hours of dawn. Cas had once thought perhaps Dean was seeing someone else in secret, but pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself that this was Dean they were talking about. Fiercely loyal Dean. Though recently, Cas thought, his loyalty was questionable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the amazing thedamwriter, (check her out!) who proclaimed "fuck you" more than once upon reading this. She advised me against inflicting heartbreak amongst you, yet my sadistic tendencies won in the end. To be honest, I wasn't sure what to rate this, so I went with M just to be safe. At the end, it randomly switches to Dean's POV.
> 
> Title from the song "History" by This Wild Life, which you should listen to while reading for added soul-crushing heartbreak.
> 
> May you suffer less pain from reading this than I intended to make you.
> 
> Comments and feedback always appreciated.

_September 15th_

 

Dean seemed distant. It was nothing new. Cas had gotten used to only seeing  him in the mornings, as his boyfriend worked late hours, straight through midnight and into the early hours of dawn. Cas had once thought perhaps Dean was seeing someone else in secret, but pushed the thought out of his mind, reminding himself that this was _Dean_ they were talking about. Fiercely loyal Dean. Though recently, Cas thought, his loyalty was questionable.

The two had been dating for nearly a year and half, and Cas wondered where the time had gone. It had been the best time of his life, until a month ago Dean seemed to move further and further away. Every time Cas brought it up, whether over their breakfast or in bed, Dean dismissed it, mumbling something about work. This led to awkward nights, where Cas rolled onto his side, back facing Dean. Even as Dean nudged him, whining his name, he refused to turn over. It hurt too much to look at something he couldn’t have. Sometimes he wondered if Dean was ever really his. 

 

_September 16th_

 

Dean came home at one in the morning. Cas hadn’t bothered to wait up for him, instead fixing a meal of mac and cheese, leaving half of it in the pot, keeping it on the stove for Dean. He’d eaten, sulked in the shower, and crawled into bed, clutching to the scent of Dean on the Led Zeppelin shirt he’d nicked. He breathed in the aroma of rich cologne and motor oil, taking deep, heavy breaths, which somehow progressed into deeper sobs. He cried himself to sleep, feeling the cold emptiness of the vacant spot where Dean should’ve been, the weight of feeling abandoned heavy on his chest as he choked on his hitched breath. He’d fallen asleep that way, tear tracks on his face, sprawled over his half of the bed. 

He’d heard Dean come in, and jerked awake as he heard a door slam, and the faint _click_ as the lock was turned. The stomp of boots against tile echoed through the hallway, and Cas tensed up. It sounded like Dean was in a foul mood, and that was the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. 

“Look, I’m telling you, I need it by Friday. No later.” The muffled voice wafted through the hall and towards Cas, who pulled blankets around himself, trying to pretend that he was asleep. “Yeah. That’s right. I’ve worked too damn hard for this. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to take no for an answer.” _Probably a business call,_ Cas thought, and he wished for nothing more than silence. Silence, or for Dean to come and hold him right about now. He wouldn’t turn down a mind-numbing orgasm, either. But he simply laid there, hearing the clatter of silverware against porcelain, and guessed that Dean had discovered the macaroni. 

He recalled a time when he and Dean would eat dinner together. And at proper times, too. Not one in the fucking morning. One in the morning was bedtime, after round after round of amazing sex. Now, the sex felt rushed, and left Cas unsatisfied, empty, hollow. Not that sex defined a relationship, of course. But Cas knew that Dean loved sex, craved it even, and the fact that he was neglecting his boyfriend proved that something was seriously fucked up between them. That’s what Cas had decided, anyway. 

The sound of a chair scraping, water running, more clinking, and finally footsteps.  Cas tensed, knowing that Dean was behind the closed door. A shadow eclipsed the slit of light beneath the door, and Cas saw light flood the room, lighting up the interior, as Dean entered.

 “Cas?” Dean whispered into the still silence, and Cas continued to feign sleep. “You asleep?” Cas didn’t move a muscle. A part of him was angry, and if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really know why. Dean was working hard. It wasn’t like he had any choice to stay at the garage so late.

 Except he definitely did. Dean never used to work so much. It was leave-at-eight-come-back-at-five every day for over a year. What had changed?

 Cas listened as Dean moved about the room, and he stared intently at the wall in front of him. He lay on his side, facing the window-less portion of the room, which was instead decorated with Dean’s things. Cas had only moved in six months ago, leaving most of the few possessions he had at his old house, which Gabriel now occupied. Cas thought it would be easier that way.

 The wall was mostly covered in pictures. Many were of Dean and Cas, and he felt his heart twist in his chest. Dean and Cas on the dock by the lake. Dean and Cas at Sam’s graduation. Dean and Cas kissing in front of the Impala. Dean and Cas, all dressed up, arms around each other’s waists, grinning like kids on Christmas morning. They were happy. Everything was perfect.

 Cas felt the weight of the bed sink next to him, as Dean moved to join Cas under the covers. And so Cas waited, waited for Dean to embrace him, to wrap Cas up in his arms, seek warmth from Cas’s body. But no such affection came from the other man, as the bed was still, no movement from either of them. Cas resisted the urge to cry out.

 

_September 17th_

 

Cas woke up to the sound of the shower.  Sunlight seeped through the blinds on the other side of the room, casting lines of light on the white sheets and pale walls. Dean was awake, that much was evident, judging by the humming coming from the open bathroom. Cas couldn’t help but smile at that. It was just so typically Dean. As the sound of water against tile ceased, and the sound of shower curtain rungs replaced it, Cas sat up in bed, watching the entrance to the bathroom. Dean stepped out, towel wrapped loosely around his hips, hair poking in every direction, water dripping from long eyelashes onto pink lips. 

 “Morning,” Dean mumbled, breaking Cas out of his reverie, and Cas watched as his boyfriend moved to the dresser, sliding open chestnut drawers, tossing clothes onto the bed with a soft _poosh_ as they hit the duvet. 

 “Good morning,” Cas replied, and Dean gave him a small smile.

 “You sleep alright?” Cas nodded, and Dean returned to the perusing of the dresser drawers. In fact, Cas had barely slept at all. He’d spent more time thinking. Tomorrow was his birthday. Last year, he and Dean had gone out to dinner, and they’d talked for hours, and kissed for even longer. This year, Dean hadn’t so much as mentioned any plan making. He hadn’t even brought up Cas’s birthday. 

 Dean removed the towel from around his waist, exposing his bare ass to the room, and Cas looked away. He still hated to look at what he couldn’t have.

 “You got work today?” Dean asked, with his back still to Cas, as he pulled on a pair of boxers, and then his jeans.

 “Yes. You?” Dean hummed in confirmation, pulling an unfairly tight fitted black t-shirt over his head. 

 “I better get going,” Dean told him, and walked around the bed to kiss Cas’s forehead. And without another word, Dean was out of the room, strolling down the hallway, leaving Cas to sigh and bury his face in his hands. 

 

~~~

 

Cas had come home from the office early, having dealt with an especially obnoxious client, who didn’t seem to understand the gravity of her bank account situation. It was only three in the afternoon, and Cas wandered into the living room, dropping his briefcase on the floor, and taking a seat on the wide couch. He sighed as he nestled into the cushions, content and comfortable. 

 Reaching for his neck, he took the smooth silk of his tie in between his fingers, loosening the knot that threatened to choke him. With his other hand, he took the television remote from the glass coffee table, and pressed buttons until the TV sputtered to life. He continued to flip through channels until he came across the Discovery Channel, which was broadcasting a documentary on bees that afternoon. Cas shut his eyes for a moment, letting the faint hum from the screen and the sound of bees buzzing overcome him, let the warmth of the sunlight cast onto the couch seep through his suit. 

 Cas awoke with a start, as he heard keys jingling and Dean’s voice. Dean was home. He glanced at the clock on the wall, and realized he’d been asleep for two hours. The bee documentary had moved on to something about meerkats, and Dean was home before dinner. 

 “Dean?” He murmured, but no response came, as Cas realized that Dean was on the phone with someone. Always on the phone. The sound of his voice came from the kitchen, and Cas couldn’t help but listen in.

 “Yeah, I know. But I’ve needed to do this for a long time.” Silence. “Hell, it’s gonna be weird not calling him my boyfriend anymore.” The words buzzed in Cas’s ears, as he began to feel lightheaded. Not his boyfriend anymore? Was that it? The reason Dean had been so distant for all this time? He was going to break up with Cas.

 Cas stood up, wandering out of the room, stopping to put a hand on the wall to steady himself when nausea threatened to overtake him. Dean was going to break up with him. He didn’t know when he’d started to cry again, but there he was, stumbling into the bedroom, silent tears tracing his cheeks. It wasn’t even the first time that week that’d he’d cried over Dean. It had to mean that this was wrong. Everything was wrong. 

 He fell into bed, still dressed in his work attire, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He curled up, putting his knees to his chest, and tried not to look at the pictures on the wall. It was too much. 

 Dean wasn’t going to break up with Cas. Not if Cas did it first.

 

_September 18th_

 

Cas woke up before the sun rose. When he’d opened his eyes, the alarm clock had read 3:02, and he realized that sleeping and skipping dinner had fucked up his sleep pattern. It was better that way, though. This way Dean didn’t have to watch Cas as he rifled through drawers and closets, pulling out his clothes and belongings, shoving them into a duffel. There was almost nothing. He hadn’t realized how heavily he’d relied on Dean until those moments, where going through the kitchen proved fruitless, and nothing of his was in the living room. Everything was Dean’s. Again, that made it all the easier. 

 He dressed in careful silence, watching Dean as he slept, making sure he didn’t wake the other man. Dean was a heavy sleeper, luckily, and didn’t stir at all as Cas stripped the house of everything he owned. And if he took one or two of Dean’s shirts, it was nobody’s business. 

 At 5:47, he made himself a hasty breakfast of peanut butter and jelly, and didn’t even bother trying to operate the toaster. It couldn’t be long until Dean realized that he was the only one in bed. Cas needed to get this over with. _Happy fucking birthday to me,_ he thought, and it felt like a hand was wrapped around his throat as he tried to swallow his food. 

 He dragged his duffel to the front door, and trudged through the living room, running his fingers over the upholstery. The worn fabric of the couch was soft beneath his fingers, and he stroked it for what he thought could be the last time. He traced the grooves in the wooden dining room chairs, ran the pads of his fingers along the cold walls, desperate to soak in every detail before he would have to part with the house. The hand around his throat grew stronger. He wandered before finally taking a seat at the kitchen table, content to sit and wait.

 At 7:39, he heard rustling, followed by the sound of his name. Dean was awake. Cas felt himself straighten up in his chair, waiting for the moment Dean walked into the kitchen and found him, and for the first time in a long time, he was terrified. 

 “Cas?” Cas’s head whipped around as Dean came through the door to the kitchen, rubbing his eye with the back of his hand, stumbling over his feet. His shirt and boxers were rumpled, and he looked exhausted. Cas wondered what time he’d gone to bed. 

 “Dean,” Cas replied, as cooly as he could, despite the fact that his hands were shaking in his lap. He waited for anything. He waited for a ‘happy birthday.’ But most of all, he waited for the question he really didn’t want to answer.

 “What are you doing up and dressed?” There it was. Cas just stared at him blankly, feeling his insides curl, his intestines tighten, his stomach compress. The look Dean gave him back was pure innocent confusion, only slightly marred by the bags underneath his eyes. 

 “Dean, I-” Cas stopped short, the words rolling around in his mouth as he tried to find the best way to phrase what he had to say. Scratch that, there was no ‘best’ way. There was only a least worst way. Cas stood from his chair, standing across from Dean. “We need to end this.”

 Cas didn’t know what he expected to happen, but the look of hurt that shot through Dean’s features surely wasn’t at the top of the list.

 “What?” Dean’s voice was a hoarse whisper. Cas felt pent up rage rise to the surface, and his hands balled into fists, which he clenched until his knuckles were white. 

 “I heard you on the phone the other day,” he told Dean, and Dean frowned.

 “What?” He repeated, and Cas felt himself grow steadily exasperated.

 “I heard you. I heard you talking about me. You said that it would be strange not calling me your boyfriend anymore.” Dean’s eyes widened, as he opened his mouth to say something.

 “Cas, no, that wa-”

 “Stop. Just stop. I’ve been crying myself to sleep for nearly a month now. Is this some sort of sick game you’re playing, Dean Winchester? Because whatever it is, I’ve had enough of it. I want out. I need out,” Cas finished, breathing heavily. His eyes burned with unshed tears, as the anger he’d released was quickly replaced by an aching misery. Dean too looked on the verge of sobbing, as a single tear broke the bridge of freckles along his cheeks. 

 “Let me explain. Please, Cas, I can’t do this without you,” Dean choked, voice cracking, as he reached forward in an attempt to take Cas’s hand. Cas yanked his hand backwards, away from Dean’s own. 

 “No. I’m sorry, Dean. I’m sorry. I just can’t go through this anymore.” And then the threat of crying was too much, and he heard a sob escape his lips, as he turned his back on Dean, fleeing. 

 He ran past the halls, the walls and picture frames a blur, the colors smeared by the tears pooled in his eyes. 

 “Cas! Castiel! Angel, don’t go!”

 He bolted towards the door, taking the duffel he’d packed in his hand, pushing the door open. He ran off the porch, striding towards his car, trying to ignore the tears spilling down his own cheeks. The hand around his neck was now squeezing the life out of him.

 “Cas! Please, we can talk about this!” Cas spun around on his heel, just as Dean   ran over the threshold after him, his look of pain mirroring Cas’s own. 

 “We have nothing to talk about. I’m sick of feeling like shit. I’m sick of being awake at one in the morning only because you’ve just come home, and then not even being told why.” 

 “Cas, just please let me explain,” Dean begged, and Cas avoided his eyes.

 “We’re done, Dean.” And with that, he pulled open the door to the car, leaving Dean standing on the porch, looking dumbstruck. Cas slammed the door after him, throwing the bag into the passenger seat, and fumbling with the ignition before starting the car up and riding out of the driveway. Out of his rearview mirror he saw the house, with it’s pristine paint and white porch, on which a man sank to his knees, face buried in his hands.

 

~~~

 

Dean sat on the porch for what felt like hours, letting sobs wrack his body, crying into his hands. Cas was gone. Cas had taken everything he owned, packed a bag, and left.

 Dean finally trudged back into the house, slamming the door shut behind him. He ran his fingers through his hair, willing the steady flow of tears to end. It did no good, however, and he found himself staggering back into the bedroom, and when he arrived at the dimly lit room, he glanced around.

 Cas’s nightstand was free of any belongings, bare and cold. When Dean opened the dresser drawers, he saw the absence of Cas’s clothes, and promptly shut the drawer with more force than was needed. He dropped his weight onto the edge of the bed, simply sitting for a while. He let out a noise that was almost a sigh, but more of a whimper. 

 He saw it on his nightstand, then, taunting him with its navy velvet. He reached for it, holding it in his hand, before tentatively opening the small box. 

 Inside was the ring. The ring he’d worked double time for a month to be able to afford. The ring that he’d planned to propose with tonight. He loved Cas, he wanted to marry Cas, and now the best thing in his life was gone. He hadn’t even gone after him. 

 The irony got the best of Dean, as he scrubbed a hand over his face, shut the box, and opened the nightstand’s drawer. As he shoved the ring towards the back of the drawer, hiding it from sight, his stomach clenched, and his eyes stung. 

 He reached for his phone, taking it from its place on the bed, and pressing 2 on speed dial. 1 had been Cas. It rang for what felt like hours to Dean, before he heard a click.

 “Sam?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas runs into Dean at the Roadhouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is: the much requested chapter 2!
> 
> Thanks to thedamwriter for being the best beta a girl could ask for.
> 
> Warning for a (very) brief mention of panic attacks.

_December 31st_

 

Cas pulled up outside the Roadhouse, and even from his place in the car out front he could here the beat of the music coming from within. Mumbling to himself, he pushed open the door to his car, and stepped out. He ran a hand over his jeans, smoothing the wrinkles, and pulled at the hem of his shirt. He’d just thrown on a pale blue collared shirt, but had allowed Gabriel to unbutton the top two buttons and roll his sleeves up as his brother muttered something along the lines of _if you want to get laid, you gotta look hot._ Cas wasn’t sure Gabriel was the best judge of whether or not something was hot, seeing as his brother spent most of his time in sweats, but he went with his fashion choices nevertheless. 

 It was a New Year’s Eve party, though the sky was still blue, but the sun was beginning to hang lower over the horizon. The parking lot was packed, and as Cas surveyed his surroundings, he saw what he immediately recognized as an Impala. He sucked in his breath, turning his head sharply away. There was a ridiculous number of people here. If the odds were in his favor, he wouldn’t have to face Dean. He would walk in, say hello to Jo, who had been courteous enough to invite him, and have a couple of drinks. He would leave before midnight, avoiding the festivities. He didn’t need to see kissing couples.

 He locked the car, putting his keys into his pocket. He took a moment to stand where he stood, simply watching the Roadhouse, and he could see through the windows into the bar and the party within. He needed to get out of the house anyway.  Walking towards the front doors, he could hear the chatter within, snippets of conversation between friends and family. He wished he’d dragged Gabriel with him. Being alone was going to be a pain.

 The wooden doors gave a signature creak as he pushed them open, signaling the arrival of another guest. No heads turned in his direction, however, as everyone went about their business, drinking and laughing. Cas looked around the room, and felt a weight settle in his stomach. He was alone. Again. 

 He tried his hardest not to concentrate on his solitude, and instead admired the Roadhouse’s decoration. The wooden interior was absolutely covered in streamers, mainly of the purple and green variety. Platters of food lay on every surface, their contents ranging from bruschetta to cupcakes. There was a turntable in the far corner, playing something Cas couldn’t recognize. He figured it was something Dean would like. 

 “Cas! You made it!” Jo was walking towards him, and unlike many of the guests, she was dressed in her usual attire, looking rather exhausted. 

 “Hello, Jo,” Cas responded, letting her embrace him in a tight hug.

 “Thanks for coming,” she grinned, and Cas nodded, not quite matching her smile. “Hey, if you need anything, I’ll be behind the bar. Want a drink?” Yes, Cas could definitely use a drink. He had pushed himself to be here, and knew that the numb of an alcohol induced haze would keep him preoccupied. 

 “I would love a drink, Jo. What would you recommend?” Jo beckoned to him, and he followed her to the bar, taking a seat on a stool. Jo walked around the bar, meeting him on the other side. She sets a glass of amber liquid on the counter, pushing it towards Cas.

 “On the house.” She winked, and Cas was infinitely grateful. 

 “You’re a hero.”

 “I’m aware.” As she bounced off to take care of another friend, Cas put the edge of the glass to his lips, taking a brief sip, feeling it sear his throat and warm his insides. The music had changed, and was now some pop song he didn’t know, and the beat coursed through the room and his bones. _Screw it,_ he thought, downing half of his drink in one gulp, and shaking his head slightly as it burned. He needed the distraction. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in his ears, when a familiar voice spoke out.

 “Whatever’s on the tap,” the voice said, and Cas’s eyes shot open, revealing none other than Dean Winchester on his left. Cas couldn’t help but notice that he looked good, in a dark henley and well-worn jeans. Dean looked over and caught Cas’s eye, and immediately flushed pink. He gave a courteous nod, which Cas returned, just as Jo passed Dean his beer. When Jo gave Cas a questioning look, he just gave her a reassuring smile, and Jo walked away, frowning over her shoulder slightly. 

 It was silent for a while, as Dean drank and Cas ran his thumb over the rim of his glass. Cas supposed he should say something. It had been over three months since their messy breakup, and if we was completely honest with himself, he missed Dean. He missed conversations and jokes with him. And really, he missed their time spent together in general. And now, looking at the other man, he felt a sort of longing towards him, something he supposed he’d had since their first day apart. But he still only stole glances at him when he wasn’t looking. When the elephant in the room became too much, Dean spoke.

 “Hey.” It was a single, meaningless word, but it made Cas’s insides jump all the same. 

 “Hello, Dean,” he replied, avoiding the pair of green eyes that were fixed upon him. “How are you?”

 “Good, uh, I’m good.” Dean smiled slightly as Cas finally gathered the strength to meet his eyes, and Cas matched his expression.

 “That’s... good.” The conversation came to a halt, heavy silence echoing between them.

 “So,” Dean started again, clearing his throat. “You seeing anyone?” Cas shook his head, and he felt the hand that wasn’t occupied with holding his drink curl into a fist, nails digging into the flesh of his palm.

 “No,” he answered, voice rougher than he’d intended. “Not since you.” He saw Dean’s eyes widen a fraction, then his attempt to pull off nonchalance. 

 “Oh.”

 “Yeah. How about you?” Cas could hear the note of possessiveness in his voice, and wished he could just shut up. Dean shrugged, staring at a point over Cas’s shoulder. 

 “Nah.” Dean blushed further, and Cas’s heart swelled. “I uh, I haven’t seen you around much,” Dean continued, frowning slightly, swiveling his chair to face Cas completely. 

 Of course Dean hadn’t seen him much. He had made a point to avoid awkward confrontation, even though he would’ve liked nothing more than to see Dean. Now that he was here, however, it was less awkward than he assumed it would be.

 “I haven’t been out much. I’ve been working,” Cas explained, and Dean grinned.

 “Oh, yeah? How’s that crazy lady? Meg, or whatever her name was.” Cas giggled. He couldn’t help himself.

 “Yes, Meg, rowdy as ever.” Dean laughed out loud, a melodious sound, one that was easily missed. 

 “D’you remember that time you came home covered in that ink she spilled on you?”

 Cas remembered. He also remembered how they’d “cleaned up” in the shower together, and as both their faces fell a little, he could tell Dean was recalling that particular incident as well. Cas wished it had never stopped being that way. He couldn’t even recall why they’d broken up in the first place. Scratch that, why he’d ended it in the first place. _Oh hell, what could go wrong?_ Cas took his glass from the table, raising the glass to his lips and downing the rest of his drink in one. 

 “I never did let you explain yourself,” he told Dean, and his eyebrows raised.

 “Didn’t think you cared.”

 “Of course I care, Dean. I just... my judgement was clouded.” The music had changed, and now a soft ballad echoed through the Roadhouse. How terribly cliché.

 Dean lifted his own glass, taking a gulp of his own ale, before setting it back on the counter.

 “You want the real answer?” Dean questioned, still giving him that look of wonder and confusion. Cas squinted, crossing his arms across his chest. What kind of question was that?

 “Well, I would expect the real answer.” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face at Cas’s words, and glanced around the room.

 “I’m not nearly drunk enough for this.” He sighed before continuing. “Fine. Real answer? I was working double time.”

 “Well that much was obvious,” Cas mumbled.

 “I was saving up.”

 “Saving up? For what?” He felt himself lean in, and Dean looked away from his gaze, glaring pointedly at the bar instead.

 “A ring.”

 It hits Cas like a truck, or a punch to the stomach, dull shock washing over him in drowning waves. Dean is still looking at the counter like it’s committed a personal offense, and Cas knows that he is the reason for Dean’s hurt. 

 “You- a ring? Like, an-”

 “Yeah. An engagement ring.” And then Dean looks back up at him, and the look in his eyes is enough to make Cas feel like he’s bleeding from the inside, every inch of his body aching, bursting with the desire to make right what he’d ruined. 

 “Dean, I- I’m-” He found himself incapable of speaking the words he wished to say: _I’m so sorry, I love you, I love you I love you I love you._ Dean continues to speak instead, his eyes locked on Cas’s, and it’s almost worse than it was when he was looking away.

 “It was going to be a surprise. I made a reservation at that one fancy place you love, uh, Avante Garde Cuisine, and I was gonna take you out afterwards and get on one knee and all that shit and- uh, Cas?”

 Cas was gaping, eyes wide. Dean was saving up for a ring to _propose._ Dean was going to ask him to marry him, and he’d thought Dean was going to end things with him. God, he was stupid. He was the biggest idiot on the planet. It all made sense now, he’d only let his paranoid mind get in the way. _Keep on your toes, Castiel, they’ll love you and then leave you just like that._ Those had always been Gabriel’s words, and Cas had always believed him. Never in his life had he thought someone would love him enough to marry him. Yet here Dean was, the perfect man, smart, handsome, kind, and Cas had thrown it all away in fear. 

 “Cas? Are you okay?” Dean was frowning again, concern etched upon his features. Cas sure as hell didn’t know how to fix what he’d done, so he did the only thing he knew how to do.

 He lunged out of his seat, fisting Dean’s shirt and pulling him to his feet, wrapping his arms around his neck, before kissing him hard. Dean was stiff and tense at first, giving an alarmed noise that eased into an almost-moan, as he relaxed into the kiss and wrapped his own arms around Cas, moving his hands up and down his back and shoulders. Dean’s lips were soft and warm, just as they had always been, and Cas coaxed them open with his tongue, pleasantly surprised when Dean opened his mouth to allow Cas access. 

 For a moment, it was almost as if they were alone; the crowd around them simply a figment of their imagination as they were wrapped in fiery ardor. The wooden walls around them dissolved, as their lips met over and over again, breath hot against each other’s faces as they sought oxygen. Cas found a comfort in Dean that he’d thought he’d lost forever. 

 “Woah, um, okay, you two, teensy bit public. Even for this crowd.”

 Dean and Cas jumped apart to see Jo, who stood behind the counter with an amused expression. They both mumbled something about _Sorry, Jo,_ but Cas was too thrilled with the way that Dean was still clutching him close to care. When he looked up at him, Dean gave him a little smile. Cas could see his freckles, and he caught himself staring. His eyes traveled up to Dean’s, his green eyes, with flecks of gold that seemed to glow in the dim light.

 “Can we talk? Just a little, because I want this, but I think we’ve got to go over some stuff,” Dean asked, and Cas nodded gently, again wondering why he ever let Dean out of his sight. As they moved to walk out of the Roadhouse, Jo reached forward and wrapped her hand around Cas’s wrist. 

 “Castiel, can I talk to you for just a second?” Jo’s face was apologetic, and Cas gave another nod.

 “I’ll be outside. Meet me out front, yeah?” Cas was nodding an awful lot tonight. He watched as Dean pushed his way through the throng, disappearing through the doors. He turned back to face Jo, who patted his hand gently.

 “You okay?” She inquired, and Cas sighed, glancing wistfully over his shoulder, back at the doors.

 “I think so, yes,” he said, completely truthful.

 “You guys ended things pretty badly. He was a wreck. He really loves you, Castiel.” Jo raised her eyebrows, looking up at Cas almost expectantly, and Cas ran the hand that wasn’t covered by Jo’s through his hair. Nervous habits never really die.

 “And I love him. I jumped to conclusions. I thought he was going to break up with me because of a stupid, stupid conversation. He said it was going to be strange not calling me his boyfriend, and I thought he meant... I was so afraid of relationships that I ended the best one I’ve ever had....”

 “Castiel, sshhh. It’s okay.” Jo was gently gripping his hand now, and Cas hadn’t even realized that his breath had started coming in pants. “Calm down. It’s fine. As long as you’re safe and happy, everything’s going to be okay. Now go out there and tend to that boy,” Jo finished, and Cas’s breathing slowed. She beamed up at him, and he gave her the best attempt at a smile he could muster while coming down from what had almost been a panic attack. 

 “Thank you, Jo. For everything.” And then he was turning to walk to the door, the world almost spinning around him, because _Dean was outside._ Dean was outside those doors, waiting for him. Waiting for Castiel, willing to listen, willing to forgive. Cas didn’t deserve a second of Dean’s time, yet there he was, outside those doors.

 After much shoving, he made it past the dense crowd and pushed open the wooden doors, which gave the same creak they’d done when he’d entered. When he looked to the side, he saw Dean, who was leaning up against the wall, back pressed to the wood paneling. He moved to face Cas, and they stood there, their faces illuminated by the colors of the setting sun.

 “Dean,” Cas started, but Dean stepped forward, putting a finger to Cas’s lips. Cas frowned as Dean quietly shushed him.

 “Cas, let me say something. We talked about this from the beginning, and you told me you were terrified of commitment, and we worked with it. We worked around it. We can do it again, I know we can. I want to make this work,” Dean rambled, and Cas stared at him.

 “Dean, I left you. What I did was unforgivable. If anything, you should slap me now.” Dean gave a soft chuckle, moving his hand to cup Cas’s jaw, and Cas leaned into the touch.

 “I understand. But I miss you, I miss what we had, and something tells me you miss this too.” He rubbed circles with his thumb over Cas’s cheek, as Cas’s defenses crumbled under the gentle affection.

 “I do. I miss you. Just- just stay by my side. Please.”

 “Always. Always,” Dean said, pulling Cas into a hug. Wrapped in Dean’s warmth, he breathed in the scent of his cologne, putting his own arms around Dean’s middle. His face was buried in Dean’s neck, and as he rested contentedly against the skin there, he felt the lump rising in his throat, and the regret and guilt of walking out churned in his stomach. As he sniffled, Dean held him tighter, whispering kind words of _hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here._

 “I love you,” Cas choked, nuzzling Dean in an effort to get even closer, despite the fact that they were already pressed flush together. 

 “I love you, too.” Dean moved a hand to Cas’s chin, lifting it up so that Cas was looking back at Dean. “Come back home.”

 “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr at pristinecas.tumblr.com


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